I wonder if I was supposed to keep my mouth shut about anything that ever happened in my life, such as by not writing a book about it.
But you have to realize:::: with everything I had experienced by the time I wrote the book, I was in such a state of daze and wonderment about my life, like, I was absolutely dazzled by my experiences --- I couldn't help but thinking that writing a book and getting the word out was the next best thing I could do - especially as at that time I was still under the influence of my patriarchal blessing telling me to speak to the nations.
I look back on my life ---- and I realize that what I've been through is so strange that reality doesn't seem like reality anymore --- I mean, my reality was absolutely "crazy", for lack of a better word.
Like maybe I wasn't supposed to talk about things, maybe I was supposed to stay quiet --- but when you start working on a book about your life, and then Jesus comes to visit you three times in one week after you've finished the initial draft, I mean, reality just stops making sense to quickly that it's just second nature to reveal all this stuff that happened and keeping any secrets doesn't even begin to seem important.
Like::: in my book I discuss my experience where the youth group met in 2001 and the government guy had talked to bishop to start a media campaign to fight a war on terror:
my parents I thought I was crazy when I related these experiences to them,
So therefore either the experience was legit and calling me so "crazy" was just overkill on the crazy accusations, or that experience really was a complete hallucination and it just let me know about what was going to happen in the future.
I mean ---- either I have been overly-falsely accused of being crazy (another reason to write a book) --- or reality makes such little sense seeing as how I can have a complete experience that was solely hallucinatory --- and whatever the case was, writing the book made the most sense to me ---- because reality wasn't making sense to me.
I KNOW there was a "magical" aspect to the experience, that much is clear, and I know the story is so crazy and disturbing that it's much like something you'd find in the Bible itself --- I mean, I'm just living my life now, wondering "what the heck was I thinking or doing that whole time?"
Basically, I just have to explain that it didn't make sense to me to keep the story secret or hidden.
And reality stopped making sense to me. Reality is magical, so either I was hallucinating all kinds of things (realistically), or I was being overly-accused of being crazy. No idea anymore.
Final note:: those crazy accusations have left me on drugs which I'm pretty sure affect my metabolism, and I think they lower my metabolism, so of course I am quite heavy.
It's just interesting that I can have experiences I know are real and true - but then people find fault with any part of it in any way (even if their fault is not truly logical) and I get drugged. Hmm.